


Heartwrenching

by Writerleft



Series: Comes Marching Home [27]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Backstory, Canon Compliant, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerleft/pseuds/Writerleft
Summary: Asami was a lonely child--but there was always somebody there for her.





	1. Twelve

**Author's Note:**

> Response to tumblr ask for more Wrenchie content -- this has been a long time coming!

“This is Korra,” she said into the phone, frowning. Whenever somebody went through the trouble of tracking her down to talk over the telephone, it was never good news.

“Oh good,” Asami’s assistant, Tenni said. “Do you think you could swing by Asami’s office?”

Her frown deepened. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure,” Tenni said.

 

\--

 

Asami was four the first time her father let her help on an engine.

Her mom tied her hair back with a big bow, and earned a bigger smile. Daddy smiled too, his eyes twinkling as he kissed her forehead, his mustache tickling between her eyebrows.

Asami didn’t know how the engine worked, but she loved how all its parts moved and pumped and spun. Her mouth gaped into a little ‘o’ when she moved the pistons and showed how that spun a rod.

Daddy asked her what happened next, and she pointed at the end, where the rod was going. “That spins too!”

“Yes, very good, Asami!” he said. “Or at least, it should. But look, it’s jammed. We’re going to fix that.”

They worked and worked and worked. Asami took the tools daddy gave her, put them where he said. He taught her all of their names--these ones were screwdrivers, these ones were wrenches, and she forgot what the clicky spin things were. He had three wrenches set out, like a family, but he needed the middle-sized one the most.

“Asami,” he said, squinting into a crevice where the shaft was jammed, “hand me the number twelve wrench.”

Asami didn’t remember which one was which number, but twelve seemed like a very big number, since she was only four. She handed the big one to him, and he chuckled. “This one is too big, sweetie.”

“Why can’t you use it?” she asked. “Isn’t the big one better? It’s stuck.”

He shook his head. “You need the right tool for each job, my dear. Every tool is specialized. Right now, I need that one,” he pointed to the medium-sized wrench.

“That’s the special one?”

“Right now, yes.”

She handed him the special wrench, and soon enough, the shaft was spinning. Asami jumped and clapped--they’d fixed it, together!--as Hiroshi handed the wrench back to her and cleaned himself off.

Asami looked at the wrench in her hands. This little tool had made the whole engine work! “How'd it work, Daddy?”

“Sometimes, things just need wrenching into place,” he explained, and Asami nodded. Maybe next time, he’d let her wrenchie it into place herself! “Now, it’s time to put the tools away.”

Asami stopped, clutching the wrench to herself. “I like this one. Can I keep it, daddy? You have so many tools and I don’t have any.”

“It’s part of the set though, dear. You wouldn’t want to break it up, would you?”

Asami frowned. “I… I could let you borrow it.”

Daddy laughed, but she knew he wasn’t making fun of her. He knelt in front of her, and tapped her nose with his finger. “I think I may have another solution.”

They cleaned up, went inside. Asami looked back over her shoulder, not sure she’d remember which wrench was the special one. Which number was it? It was twelve. She had to remember twelve.

While Mommy sat her down for lunch, Daddy disappeared into his study, and Asami could hear him rummaging around. Even as she told Mommy about how much she’d helped Daddy rebuild the whole engine, she kept listening for Daddy to return, curious what his answer was. Finally he came out, carrying a long metal box. Mommy quirked an eyebrow at it, with a smile.

“This,” Daddy said, “is a tool set your mother had made for me, special.” He set it on the table, opening the box. Asami craned her neck to peer in, eyes wide.

There were wrenches and screwdrivers and hammers, spin things and pinchers, all of them some shiny combination of sleek black or deep red. All of them were spotless, and all of them had a special place they fit.

“It was to celebrate your first order of Satomobiles,” Mommy said. “Somebody who made the best cars in the world, should have tools to match.”

“I could never bear to use them,” Daddy said, running his fingers through Asami’s hair but his eyes never leaving Mommy. “But now, I’ve got the best _daughter_ in the world. And I think she deserves her own special set of tools.”

Asami’s eyes went wide. “All of them?”

“All of them” Daddy agreed. “Do you know which wrench it as we used at the end?”

“Twelve,” she said confidently.

Hiroshi reached into the box, and pulled a wrench out for her, just the same as the one outside, but black and red and pretty and new and _hers_. “Twelve,” he smiled. 

 

_Fanart courtesy of[applemay26](https://applemay26.tumblr.com/post/174770092552/hi-threehoursfromtroy-d-this-was-an-idea-from)_


	2. Mommy

To almost anyone else, Asami would look fine. To Korra, though, just a glance upon entering her office let her know something was off.

Her eye makeup was gone.

Asami looked up from her work, then gave a sour glance at Tenni’s office. “Did she call you?”

“You’ve been crying,” Korra said.

“I can’t _believe_ she told you!” Asami growled.

“She didn’t,” Korra said, pointing at her own eyes. “I can tell.”

Asami sighed, leaning back into her chair. “Well, I’m fine.”

 

\--

 

Asami was six, and she liked to carry tools with her.

She’d grown up so much since she got them, but the tool box was still way too big for her to carry. When she could, she would bring whatever she wanted to take apart to her room. But when the mood struck her to see how something worked, she liked to have enough tools to do the job.

Her little dresses matched her tools, something Asami insisted on. They had pockets to carry them, too--that had been Mommy’s idea. She had enough room to carry two screwdrivers, and a plier, and her special wrench. Number twelve.

It was still her favorite. Some jobs just needed wrenchie to fix.

It wasn’t always the most useful, though Asami usually found a way to do something with it in each job. She was sure that everything went back together so well because she used it.

One day, she was taking apart the radio--she was sure she could get it back together herself, this time--when her hand slipped, and accidentally hit her glass of juice. She spilled it all over herself, and rushed to the kitchen to clean up.  

She forgot to pick up Wrenchie.

That night, Asami had trouble sleeping. She kept thinking she forgot something, but didn’t know what it was, couldn’t remember.

She was awake when something broke downstairs.

Asami crept out of her bedroom, hearing voices as she snuck through the halls in her bed robe. There were voices down there, and weird light.

Shouts. Fire. Her mother screamed as Asami peered down, as she watched, little fingers on the banister. Mommy fell, and a bad man with a long nose and a scar on his chin stepped over her.

Daddy shouted too. He was down there, leaping at the bad man from behind. He hit the man with something, scaring him, making him run away.

Asami stared at Mommy’s feet, all she could see of her. They weren’t moving. Mommy was on the ground, and Daddy was fighting somebody, and Mommy wasn’t moving, and Asami didn’t know what to do.

Daddy glanced up the stairs, and the look on his face, the desperation, the fear, the fury… Asami understood them. She’d never seen them before, but she understood them. “Asami,” he mouthed, before returning his attention to the bad man. “HIDE!” he shouted.

She ran went to the nearest door--a closet--and closed it behind her, huddling in the back, knees to her face, arms wrapped around them, trembling.

Footsteps came up the stairs, heavy, rushed. She closed her eyes, tight. “Asami!” Daddy called.

Asami wanted to call back, but she couldn’t. Her voice wouldn’t work. Why wasn’t Mommy moving?

“Asami!” Daddy called again, and she’d never heard his voice like that. It was loud, and scary, and scared.  He ran past, toward her room, calling her name again and again, throwing open door after door until he finally got to her.

When the closet door tore open, Asami flinched down, but Daddy just swooped in and pulled her into a tight, tight hug. Something dug into her side, and she wriggled, but Daddy was crying and so was she and they kept crying together until all the police people showed up.

Daddy finally let her go, to talk to them. He stood, and seemed a little surprised that he was still clutching a black and red wrench.

The police asked him to talk. He nodded, distant, and let Wrenchie fall. Asami picked it up quickly, clutching it to herself. More cops came to talk to her, put a blanket over her shoulders, though the metal wrench in her arms made her feel warmer and safer than the blanket did.

Asami did not sleep again that night. Asami did not see her mother again.

Asami was six.  
  


_[Fanart courtesy of space-danie](http://space-danie.tumblr.com/post/174800829035/youve-been-crying-korra-said-i-cant-believe) _


	3. Homework

“You don’t look fine,” Korra said. 

“Well, I am,” Asami insisted. 

She wasn’t fine. “Tell me,” Korra asked. “Whatever it is, let me help.” 

“It’s nothing. It really is!” 

“Asami,” Korra scolded. 

 

\--

 

“Why isn’t this working!?” Asami growled. 

She was nine. 

She crumpled up the paper she’d doing her math homework on and threw it to the floor. Her tutor expected this to be done by the next day, but she just wasn’t understanding it. She was smart, she was supposed to be able to do these things, so why was this so hard? 

A knock came at her door. “Asami? It’s me.” 

“Come in, Dad,” she said, crossing her arms and frowning at her homework.

Dad opened the door. “I misplaced a wrench, do you think I could borrow… what’s that look.” 

“Nothing. I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look fine,” Dad said. 

“It’s this homework!” Asami complained. “Fractions were easy before, but now I have to subtract them and I just can’t do it!” 

“Asami,” he said firmly, “just because it’s hard, doesn’t mean you can’t do it. You just have to try another way.” 

“I tried it all sorts of ways! There’s just too many numbers. I  _ can’t _ .” 

“Asami, enough,” Dad said, and she winced. His voice was softer as he continued, “I know it’s hard, but I’m here to help you.” 

“I thought you were here to borrow a wrench,” she sulked. 

Dad chuckled. “Well, that’s only because I didn’t know you needed help. How about you bring that special wrench of yours--it’s a twelve, right?” 

Asami nodded. 

“--and help me finish my project. That’ll get your mind off your homework for a little while. Then I’ll come back up here and we can work on your homework, together.”

“You’ll do it for me?” 

“Only if you rebalance the alignment on this Satomobile for me.” 

“Well, maybe I can!” 

He laughed. “Maybe you can, at that. Grab your wrench, come down.” 

Asami came, and brought Wrenchie with her. Usually Asami liked to get her hands dirty with him, but for once, Dad did most of the work while Asami sat nearby, kicking out her legs. 

“Hmm,” Dad pondered, his legs sticking out from underneath the car. 

“What?” Asami asked. 

“Well, the adjustments are more sensitive on the right side than the left,” he said. “If I tighten them both a half turn, the left goes about a third further.” 

“Well, don’t tighten that one as much.” 

“I have to do this for all my other Satomobiles, too,” he said. “So I can’t guess and double check every one. How much less should I turn it?” 

Asami shrugged--not that Dad could see her. “I dunno. Some.” 

“Oh, come now,” Dad said. “If half a turn is a third too much…” 

“Then… um… I guess you only need one third less than a half?” 

“That makes sense. Or maybe if we say it the other way, where we only need two thirds of the half?” 

Asami thought. “I guess so…”

“How much is that?” 

Asami frowned. Her legs stopped kicking, as she pictured turning a bolt halfway, then turning it back a third of that distance. That looked like… “A third? A third of a whole turn, I mean?” 

“You know, I think you may be right?” Hiroshi said. “Let me try it out. Then, you can help me align the back wheels…” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (there, a little less angst for you guys! This time... ;) )


	4. Guest

“I’ve got work to do, you know,” Asami tried to dodge. 

“So do I,” Korra insisted. “It’s my job to make sure my girlfriend isn’t being stubborn when she’s hurting."

Asami sighed, her head turned away. Korra wrapped her arms around her. 

“Whatever it is, I just want to know,” Korra said. “Even if all I can do is listen while you talk about it. Let me know.” 

“It’s stupid,” Asami said, her throat tight. 

 

\--

 

Asami looked at the boy, and didn’t like him one bit. Even though he was shorter, he looked a little older than her, thirteen maybe. Plump and disinterested. None of the slyness in his businesswoman mother’s eyes had been passed down to his. 

“Asami, why don’t you play with Prasert while his mother and I talk business,” Hiroshi suggested. He’d explained to Asami how important this dinner meeting could be and as much as Asami didn’t want to, she’d agreed to keep Prasert entertained. 

As much as she wanted to make new friends, Prasert didn’t get her hopes up. “Wanna come out to the workshop, and see the scooter I’m working on?” 

“Out to the workshop? Through the rain?!” Prasert looked aghast. 

Asami looked outside. It was barely sprinkling. “Yeah, it’s not a long walk--”

“Well I’m not walking anywhere!” he made clear, barely looking at her. “Trudging around on a day like this… we’d get filthy!” 

Asami  _ wished _ she were covered in mud or engine grease instead of having this conversation. “I guess there’s the model tower I have up in my bedroom.” 

“Model tower? Don’t you have anything  _ fun _ to do?” Prasert rolled his eyes. Asami felt her gaze harden, and something in Prasert--self preservation, perhaps--kicked in. “Though I suppose we may as well go see it.” 

Asami glared, but led him upstairs. He trudged in her wake, clearly enjoying this no more than she was, hands in his pockets except when checking the platinum watch on his wrist. 

They reached her room, and he paused in the door, staring at the project dominating a quarter of it. “What is  _ that _ ?” 

“It’s not finished yet,” Asami said, crossing to her desk and picking up Wrenchie, her bucket of nuts and bolts, and the plans she’d drawn up. “But it’s gonna be a replica of Harmony Tower.” 

“But… what’s the  _ point _ ? It’s too big to even get out the door!” 

“Don’t you like to make anything? Draw, or cook, or… anything?”

“We pay people to do those things, if we want.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“In working? Oh, that’s right--your dad used to be a shoe shiner, didn’t he? Mom says that new money people can be kinda odd sometimes.” 

Asami’s fist tightened on Wrenchie. She’d  _ much _ rather have spent her afternoon alone with it than with this jerk. “How about sports? Do you like any of those?” 

“Well, I do have an ostrich-horse I enjoy riding, time to time,” he said. 

That wasn’t too bad, Asami supposed. Not as fun as Satomobile racing, but it was something. “What about Pro Bending?” 

“Ugh,” he answered. “ _ I  _ come from a long line of earthbenders, and proper bending shouldn’t be used for that sort of flippant thuggery.” 

The words were more complicated than anything else he said, which led Asami to believe it was a phrase he heard often enough to repeat. “Well, I think it’s neat.” 

Prasert shrugged. “I guess you would, not being a bender or anything. Probably any little bit of it seems amazing to you.” 

She took a breath. Dad had asked her to try to be nice. ‘I’m worried you don’t have enough friends’, he said. But then he expect her to make friends with kids like  _ this? _

“How about we work on one of the vertical struts,” Asami said, determined to ignore him. 

“I don’t see the point.” 

“We’re stuck together, we might as well.” 

“Ugh, fine,” he said. “What goes where?” 

Asami checked the plans she’d sketched up, then rummaged through the pile of parts by the door. “This one here, on this cor--”

Prasert shifted onto his back foot, raising his hands, and the strut lept from Asami’s grip, hovering in the air. 

Asami scowled. “You’re not supposed to bend it!” 

“Why not? Construction crews do it all the time.” 

“Not in my dad’s company!” 

“Maybe you’re dad just can’t afford to pay benders what we’re worth. Where does this stupid thing go, anyhow?” 

Asami wanted to hit him, but her self-defense teacher made it clear again and again that she wasn’t allowed to fight just because she was mad. Instead, she stomped to the tower, pointed where the strut needed to go, shifted it into position, then inserted a bolt and nut. She put Wrenchie to work, turning it as far as she could, then repositioned for another turn.

“See, this is just what I’m talking about,” Prastert said, metalbending Wrenchie from her grip, causing Asami to teeter. He didn’t seem to notice, instead using his bending to spin the wrench around and around in a tight circle. “This is way more efficient.” 

“Give it back!” Asami demanded. 

“Why? So I can spend an hour watching you on each bolt?” 

“I said,” Asami rounded on him, “give Wrenchie back!” 

“Wrenchie?” Prastert scoffed. “You name your stupid tools?” 

“Wrenchie’s not-- just give it back!” 

“Okay, fine,” he said, floating it over to her. When she reached for it, he yanked it out of reach, and started to laugh. 

He didn’t get to finish laughing, because Asami elbowed him in the face. She felt something crack, and already knew that she was going to be in huge trouble, but at the moment, she had a hard time feeling bad about it. 

Prastert tore screaming from her room, cradling his jaw. Asami picked up wrenchie with a sigh, and set it in its place of honor on her desk, then busied herself tidying, waiting for punishment to come. 

She’d finished tidying, and still it hadn't. The waiting became nervous, then anxious. More and more scenarios played out, ways that Dad would punish her. Disassemble the tower? Take Wrenchie away? Not let her use his workshop for a month?

Eventually though, a million years later, Dad came. He didn’t look angry, but… he had to be, right? 

“Tell me what happened,” he said. 

Asami took a breath, and said how she’d tried to be nice, how she’d tried to show him how to build something, but he used his bending to make fun of her. As she spoke, the anger Asami had expected started to tighten his face, and Asami knew something bad was coming. She wouldn’t cry, though. She was too big a girl to cry. 

“Come here,” Hiroshi said once she finished. Steeling herself for what was coming, Asami stepped forward to face it. 

He collected her in a hug. “Asami, if anyone ever makes you uncomfortable or bullies you like that, I want you to know it’s okay to defend yourself.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes.  _ Especially _ if they use bending.” He pulled back a little, his hands on her shoulders as he looked her in the eyes. “In fact, after the way he was acting, I might’ve hit him with that wrench of yours for good measure.” 

Asami giggled, and Dad wiped away her tears. “Did you make the deal you needed?” 

“Don’t worry about that,” he answered, and Asami knew that meant no. But the little smile on his lips made it hard to feel guilty. “But that means, we have the whole afternoon to ourselves. Why don’t the two of us finish this tower together?” 

Asami grinned, and grabbed Wrenchie from her desk. 

 


	5. Listen

“I’m sure it isn’t stupid,” Korra reassured, kneeling beside Asami’s chair and taking her hands. “What  _ would _ be stupid is expecting me to give up without letting me help you.” 

Asami gave a weak chuckle, and something resembling a smile. Still, she turned her eyes away. “I was in my workshop…”

 

\--

  
  


“Ugh!”

Asami stormed into her dad’s workshop, slamming the door behind her. She stomped this way and that, hands at her sides, hoping to cool off to at least put this anger into something productive. That at least seemed to distract her, send the anger someplace else. 

After thirty seconds--surely, no more than forty five--she was calm enough to grab Wrenchie and some screwdrivers from her bench and return to the scooter chassis she’d been working on. 

There was still tightness in her shoulders and a sneer on her lips, that only got worse each time she turned a nut tight. “It’s not like I’m asking for something unreasonable,” she said, looking hard at the nut as Wrenchie turned it. “I get he’s scared, but it’s a  _ school _ ! What’s he think is going to happen?” 

Wrenchie finished with the nut, waiting for what Asami to continue. 

“It’s not that my tutors are bad,” she said, her focus drifting. “I just… I’ve got to learn more than what’s in books! He’s gotta see that.” 

Wrenchie lightly *clicked* against the chassis as her arm relaxed, bringing her attention back to it. 

“Am I being ungrateful?” she asked. 

Wrenchie waited for her to answer. 

“I mean… Dad does get me anything I could ever need, but… he’s busy all the time, and it gets so lonely here. The tutors and the maids and the cooks all like me but none of them are my  _ friends _ , you know?” 

Wrenchie had heard this before, of course. Especially during the past year. 

Asami sighed, slotting Wrenchie over another nut and beginning to tighten it. “I just want somewhere I can fit in. What use is learning all this if I never get to talk to anyone about it! It’s like… it’s like I’m a trophy he has on a shelf.” 

The chassis creaked a little as Asami and Wrenchie turned the nut tight. “I mean, look at you? You’re the best wrench out there, but my dad had you sitting stowed away somewhere, because you meant too much to him to actually use. Would you have been happier if you’d stayed sitting a shelf, forever? If you never got to do what you’re made for?” 

Wrenchie certainly couldn’t disagree. 

“That’s what I thought,” Asami said, wrenching another nut down. “That’s just what Dad did to you though. And he wants to do it to me, too.” 

She sighed, crossing her arms atop the chassis where the seat would eventually attach, and rested her head atop them. She looked at Wrenchie, the black and red finish a bit scratched and nicked from years of use, but comfortable in her hand. She traced a fingernail along a particularly deep gouge, remembering the stripped bolt that had caused it. She’d gotten a cut on her arm from that, too, but it had healed up. 

Maybe she’d get a little hurt, if she got to go to boarding school. But she’d heal up from that, if she did. Why couldn’t Dad see that? 

She was startled to find herself crying, and all the more so when she heard footsteps scraping up to the workshop door. She rubbed her face into her sleeve, quickly, and started angrily tightening another nut. 

The door creaked open. “Asami,” Dad said. 

She didn’t reply, just kept working on tightening nuts down. 

Dad sighed. “Please, understand. There’s a lot in this world that I can’t control. I was supposed to keep my family safe, but your mother…” 

Asami stayed focus on her task. Letting him talk. 

“All I’ve wanted since then is to protect you. I’ve given you everything you could want, here. Everything money can buy. I always try to make time for you, and… and I’m sorry if that’s not enough.” 

Asami’s fingers dipped into her fastener tray for another nut to screw down. 

“I tried to bring children your age over. Tried to see if you might hit it off with any of my associates’ kids, with any…” He sighed. “Asami, would you please look at me?” 

She turned, settling Wrenchie in her lap, and looked at him. 

He waited for her to say something, but she waited too. Finally, he shook his head. “You’re just as stubborn as your mother. And you look so much like her too… I think that makes this harder. Do you know what it would do to me, if anything were to happen to you?” 

She looked down for a moment, but only a moment. She’d hear what he had to say. Besides, even though she wasn’t talking, for once, he seemed to be listening. 

“You’re growing up so quickly. I know you’re not still the little girl I gave that special wrench to,” he said, nodding at Wrenchie, “but in a way, you always will be. You understand that, don’t you? That I love you? That all of this is because of how much I love you?” 

She chewed her lip. It was getting harder and harder not to speak, but she held firm. 

“But…” he sighed again, “as much as I love you, I don’t own you, do I?” He shook his head. “You need space to be your own person, and I’m getting in the way of that. I’m… sorry, Asami.” 

She kept as quiet as Wrenchie, but her eyes were a question. A plea. 

He bowed his head. “You can go to boarding school. An all-girls one, mind! Non-benders--” 

Asami didn’t let him finish as she leaped across the workshop, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “Oh, thank you, Dad!” she said, one of her palms pressed into his back, the other still clasping that same special wrench. “You won’t regret it. I’m going to ace all my classes, and I’ll write home every day and--”

“Just make friends” Dad said, hugging her back. “Just find some people that make you happy, okay?” 

“Okay,” Asami promised, hugging him harder, digging Wrenchie into his back. 


	6. First

“...I was working on a frozen-up drive shaft,” Asami said, fighting the strain in her voice. “And I knew the tool I needed, I knew it, but I didn’t have one nearby, but I did have Wr… I did have a special wrench, I’d had since I was a kid--”

Korra metalbent a waste bin over so she could sit on it, bringing herself about even with Asami, letting her wrap an arm around her. “The kinda black and red one?” 

Asami nodded. 

 

\--

 

It had taken Asami a long time, almost the whole six months since she’d arrived at Ms. Fong’s Academy for Girls, to figure out why she felt so compelled to spend time with Chiri. They had a lot in common, sure, both being great students and excellent swimmers. They helped each other on their homework, and had similar senses of humor--though Chiri had a naughty streak as wide as the Great Divide. 

She’d thought that this was just what having a friend was like. Giggling with each other until all hours of the morning, gossiping, playing with each other’s hair… all normal friend things. Wrenchie had even agreed. 

Right up until the moment Chiri had kissed her. 

Two minutes ago.

Before smiling and bolting from her room to make her band practice on time. 

Asami hadn’t moved since, other than to touch her lips and blush.

Chiri had  _ kissed _ her. 

Giggles erupted from her, and she flopped sideways onto the bed, kicking and unsure of what to do with any single part of herself. 

Chiri had  _ kissed _ her, and she’d  _ liked _ it. 

Was that right? Was that how it was supposed to work? 

She frowned, sitting up, her heart still fluttering, but not sure of anything. Was Chiri playing a little joke? No… no all the looks, all the time they’d spent together…  _ was _ it like a…  _ dating  _ thing? 

She wanted to giggle again. She wanted to scream. It was all so sudden… 

Her fingers were clawing into the sheet beneath her. If she’d been home, she’d start building something, to help her concentrate, to give her hands something to do, but she wasn’t allowed to do that here. All the same, she pulled Wrenchie out of her nightstand, clutching it to herself, fingers tight. 

Chiri kissed her, the way you’d kiss a boy you like. Asami had never heard of that, between two girls, before coming here, but suddenly the gossip Chiri had shared about Mada and Lakalla. Those two girls were  _ always _ together, holding hands, sneaking off into corners and closets… 

Asami gasped. Chiri had told her that to see how she reacted! 

Her hands worried on Wrenchie as she considered the kiss. She was shocked, yeah, but it was so  _ warm _ , and the way Chiri had touched her arm… 

She… she sorta wanted to do it again. 

Was that okay? Nobody knew. Would Chiri be mad if she didn’t? She didn’t want to push Chiri away, but she didn’t want to get in trouble, either… 

One of her fingers slipped between Wrenchie’s two prongs, cradling there as it had many times before. But now, it made her think of something else. 

Of Lakalla and Mada, their fingers twined together. 

Of twining her own fingers with Chiri's. 

Somehow, that was even more exciting than the kiss.

A knock came at her door. Asami jerked like she’d heard a scream. “Who is it?!” she asked, louder than she should’ve. 

“Chiri,” came through, quietly. “Can I come in?” 

“O...of course,” Asami said, calming her face. 

Chiri opened the door gingerly, sneaking through, her back to Asami as she whispered it shut. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at horn practice?” Asami asked. 

“I told Mr. Fong I have an upset stomach,” Chiri said, still by the door. Suddenly, she turned around. “Asami, I’m sorry."

“Sorry?” 

Chiri looked down. Scared. Ashamed. “I didn’t… I mean I should’ve asked.” 

“Um…” Asami licked her lips, also finding it hard to meet Chiri’s eyes. “I mean… I was surprised. So maybe?” 

“Do you hate me?” 

“No!” 

“Do you want me to go away.” 

“No.” Asami smiled, and their eyes met, shyly. “No.” 

Chiri smiled a little. “Do you want to… I mean, did you like…”

The silence stretched on just a little. Asami had to make a decision. 

Her finger fell between Wrenchie’s tines again. 

“I think… I think I might like to try it again,” Asami admitted, her face flushed. 

“Great!” Chiri said, a huge smile clear in her voice. Asami grinned too. “One thing, though… are you holding a wrench?”

Asami kept blushing, but now from embarrassment. “Uh, yeah?”

“Where did you get it?” 

She shrugged, leaning forward to slip it back into her nightstand. “Home,” Asami said.

Chiri snickered. “Hold on, Asami… are you saying you keep a long, hard tool in your nightstand?” 

“I…” Asami flushed bright red. “CHIRI!”  

 


	7. Calculation

“I took Wren… I put a metal tube I had laying around over the wrench handle, to give me more torque, and I set the wrench where I needed to move, and I put all my weight into it, and…”

“And the wrench broke?”

Asami covered her mouth.

  


\--

  


Asami sat beside her nightstand, Wrenchie clasped against her chest, sobbing.

They’d all just come back from the summer break, and she’d been so excited to see everyone again. To see _Chiri_ again. Her heart had thundered the entire drive here. Dad had commented on how happy she seemed, how letting her come here had been the right decision.

But then Mada had tried to talk to Lakalla during lunch.

Lakalla screamed at her. Told her she couldn’t be near her anymore, that her family had talked to her, that she wasn’t that kind of girl. Mada had gone from trying to hug her, to shaking her head in confusion, to sobbing on her knees. Lakalla, sobbing herself, had thrown her rice bowl at her before administration took the both of them away.

Lakalla’s dad did business with Future Industries. Asami’s own dad knew him well.

Lakalla and Mada’s relationship was an open secret before the break. Apparently, it hadn’t stayed secret from Lakalla’s family.

Asami shook her head. They’d been so happy! They’d smiled and laughed and spent so much time together, just like she and Chiri had been. Asami had never felt better in her life than those few months of shy discovery--how could it all go so wrong, so quickly? How could _love_ be wrong?

“What would Dad think?” she asked, her voice strained.

Wrenchie was cold beneath her palms.

She’d thought he’d want her to be happy, but would he? Would it take a year of wearing him down, first? Or would he pull her out of the school for giving her the wrong ideas? Introducing her to the wrong kind of people?

“What am I supposed to do?”

She crossed her arms on her knees, crying.

Somebody tapped on the door, tried the knob. She’d locked it. “Asami?” Chiri asked. “Asami, are you okay?”

Asami rolled herself up tighter, shaking her head. How was this so complicated?

“Asami, I… I can hear you crying. Let me in, please.”

This wasn’t something she could fix. There was no bolt to turn, to put things back into alignment. Nothing broken she could mend or reattach.

She didn’t have the right tools.

She wanted to get up, wanted to let her in so they could hold each other. She’d feel alright, if they were together, right?

This morning, she would have thought so.

“Asami…”

Now, she knew, really knew,  what it could cost.

Was that what this was? A math problem? Balance for X, where X = happiness?

“Asami.” Chiri was crying. “I… you have to let me in, or somebody’s gonna find me crying in the hallway.”

Asami + Chiri made the two of them happy. But if that equation was wrong, if her father and the rest of the world hated it… could they stand up against that, together? Would Asami's dad react the same way as Lakalla's? 

“Asami,” Chiri pleaded.

If X was how happy they could make each other, and Y was how difficult the whole rest of the world could make their lives… was how much love she'd lose from her father...

“I’m frightened,” Chiri whimpered.

… what did it mean if Y was greater than X?

Asami stood, only long enough to throw herself on the bed. She clutched Wrenchie to her, squeezing it for every ounce of home and warmth and security, of certainty that she could.

Chiri went away.

 

_Fanart courtesy of[captainamsel](http://captainamsel.tumblr.com/post/174632807530/threehoursfromtroy-dear-shannon-i-have-to)_


	8. Box

“Dammit,” Asami said, wiping her eyes and staring down at the broken wrench on her desk. Korra held her tight, rocking her in her chair, but there was no physical wound she could touch. “It was just a stupid wrench.” 

“If that were true,” Korra said, “You wouldn’t be crying. You’ve had that wrench with you for years. Did it have sentimental value?” 

Asami nodded. 

“Tell me.”

 

\-- 

 

“Hey,” Bolin said, stopping outside the door of the girl’s dormitories on Air Temple Island. “Really, Asami, are you okay? Because, maybe I don’t really remember my dad much, but if he did what your dad just did, I know I wouldn’t be okay. I would be pretty far from okay. I probably wouldn’t even know where okay was anymore. I--”

“I’m fine,” Asami stated. She knew she wasn’t, but she also knew the last thing she needed right now was sympathy. She had no idea how she’d keep herself together if she had that. “I just really need to sleep.” 

“Well… okay,” Bolin said suspiciously. “And I understand. But, um…” 

Asami had started turning, but paused to wait. Bolin was formulating an idea, and though Asami wasn’t terribly sure she wanted to deal with a Bolin idea right now, he’d been nothing but kind to her. There were precious few people she could say that about. 

“I was thinnnnking,” Bolin said, reaching inside his shirt, “maybe you could take care of Pabu for me tonight?” He produced the fire ferret, holding him out to her from beneath his forelegs. “I, um… forgot his water… bowl… and maybe you might...” he trailed off. 

Asami looked at Pabu’s docile eyes, and forced herself not to reject the gesture outright. While Bolin couldn’t think of an excuse to make the offer, other than to make sure Asami had some comfort, neither could Asami think of a polite way to refuse. “Just tonight,” she sighed, collecting Pabu in the crook of her arm. 

The little furball stared up at her, breathing softly. There was no way she could feel the heat he was putting off through her coat, but the pressure of him, the gentleness she had to use to keep him from squirming, it was oddly--almost annoyingly--relaxing. 

“See you in the morning?” Bolin asked. 

Asami nodded, eyeing Pabu as she made her way into the dorm. 

It had been a long, long day, and there was a lot to worry about. The city was still essentially under martial law, Amon and Tarrlok were fugitives, and most of Korra’s bending was gone. It seemed selfish, somehow, to focus on her own pain. 

But her father had tried to kill her. 

Not merely stop her, not merely wound her. 

Kill.

And so, she'd taken him down. Shocked him out of consciousness. Turned him over to the police, to be locked away, forever. Shoved in a box somewhere and forgotten. 

Her feet took her back to her room. Boxes filled one corner, where she and Korra had sorted through them one night, not long before. Only, a few of them had been overturned, or thrown against the wall, papers and clothes strewn about the floor. 

Her father must’ve done this when the Equalists occupied the island. His anger left this tableau for her to find. 

Asami made it partway to the bed before sinking to the floor and laying on her side. Her feet were on one of her dresses; her shoulder was on a mashed-up blueprint. Pabu spent a moment licking her hand, before wandering off to explore the room. So much for comfort. 

Her own father hated her, and her mother was long dead, and even a fire ferret didn’t seem interested in her. She didn’t even want to cry at this point, couldn’t if she wanted to. 

Something *thumped* onto the floor. Asami looked over, saw Pabu rooting around in the box by the bed, that had served as her night stand. He’d shoved her slide rule out already, and as she watched--

Wrenchie hit the floor too. 

Asami stared at it. Her mother’s gift to her father. Her father’s gift to her. 

None of that meant anything, did it? 

Her mom was dead, and all the love her dad had once had for her had turned into bile. Her father, the man she’d loved and respected most in the world, was long gone, if he’d ever existed at all. All the love and care that had build the Sato family was as shallow and pointless as the chipped and faded black coating on Wrenchie’s handle. 

Asami glared at it, moving before she knew what she planned. She grasped it in her hand, and threw open the window, a blast of winter chill assailing her. She shrieked as she threw Wrenchie out, then fell back to her knees. 

None of it meant anything. Nothing did. Everyone else was just as alone and miserable as she was. What was the point? 

She had enough money to her own name. She could take the mansion back, if she wanted. Or find somewhere else to live. Somewhere quiet, far away. Nobody could hurt her then. Nobody could hurt her if she didn’t let them close enough to try. She--

A trill sounded above her head, then Wrenchie fell into her lap. 

She looked up, and saw Pabu, covered in snow, quirking his head at her. 

Asami laughed. She took hold of the little furball, then hugged him closer than he liked. He squirmed out of her grip, but settled against her leg, looking up at her. 

She laughed still. Her hands covered her face. She shivered in the cold air streaming in from outside, wisps of snow coming with it. 

She was a mess, all right. 

But freezing to death or letting Pabu sneak back outside wouldn’t help anyone any, would it?

Swallowing her laughter before it turned into well-earned sobs, she stood and latched the windows. She dusted the snow out of her hair, and sighed, and looked down. 

Pabu sat beside her feet. Wrenchie was beside him. 

When she’d been little, she’d thought the wrench was special, almost magic. That it could fix anything. 

Well, it certainly couldn’t fix her. Right now, all it did was remind her. Remind her of too many things. 

Those things were part of her past, a part of her. Every memory she had that Wrenchie dredged up was one of the nuts and bolts that held Asami together, that made her who she was. 

All the same… they weren’t nuts and bolts she could bear to think about right now. 

She picked up Wrenchie again. This time, she merely found a deep box to bury it in. 

Someday, she might need something to remind her of… everything. Wrenchie would be ready for her, when she did. 

But right now, it wasn’t the right tool for the job. 


	9. Dad

“Asami” Hiroshi said, half his torso wriggled into the hummingbird suit. The fact that he had an easier time wriggling into tight spaces now than she did was just another way that this return to old times wasn’t like old times at all. He reached his hand out. “Slotted, double-aught?” 

She slipped the screwdriver in his hand, her mind wandering. She knew she should be focusing on the task at hand, every minute counted if they were going to save the city… but part of her couldn’t help but be struck by the surrealness of this whole situation. 

Her father, out of prison. Working with her on a practical mechanical engineering problem. 

It was the most at-peace she’d seen him at in years. Even back before Amon, even before she’d gone off to school. 

Asami was 22 years old, her city was under threat of imminent attack, the woman she loved was back in her life… and all she could think about, just now, was that her daddy was here. 

She tapped his leg. “I’m going to go get some water. Want anything?” 

“Strong tea, if there is any,” he said. “Water is fine, otherwise. Thank you.” 

She licked her lips, feet unwilling to move for the moment. Dad had been practical and businesslike since the moment he’d shown up with Lin, but she could see in his eyes, when he glanced at her. All the regret, all the apologies he didn’t feel he deserved to make. All the history they’d both thought they’d lost. 

Asami went right past the water cooler, into the elevator. With most of her staff evacuated, the trip to her office was uninterrupted. 

She went to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a battered, black-and-red number twelve wrench. 

It had been stored away for years, until recently. Visiting her father in prison, reconnecting with him, with the man who’d rebuilt himself from the best parts of him that were left… maybe he wasn’t the same man who’d given her Wrenchie, but that man was in there. Just like that little girl was still inside of her. 

That man, that little girl, the wrench that linked them… she was ready to have them back in her life. She was strong enough, now, to risk it. 

She returned, tea and water forgotten, wrench clasped in her hands. “I’m back,” she said, her father’s legs barely moved from where they had been. 

“Good,” he said, and he meant it. “Size ten ratchet?” 

“How about a number twelve wrench?” she asked, sliding Wrenchie into his hand. 

Dad’s hand barely moved, after she gave it to him. It cradled Wrenchie, gently, as he regarded it from deep within the hummingbird mecha’s innards. “You kept it.” 

“Of course I did,” Asami said. 

Deep inside the hummingbird suit, Dad cleared his throat. “I… would like to hold this, for a moment, if I may. But could you hand me that ratchet as well?” 

Asami laughed. “Sure thing.” She handed him the ratchet. 

Dad settled Wrenchie onto his chest, took the ratchet, and continued working. 

  
  


\--

 

“Shortly after that, we reconciled. Shortly after that, he was dead.” The last word came out barely a whisper. “Wrenchie was all I had left of him. And then I went and thoughtlessly broke it like it was just some off-the-shelf pry bar!” 

“Hey,” Korra said, rising and finally pulling Asami out of her seat and into a proper hug. Asami leaned hard into it, rubbing her eyes, all her muscles still tight. “Do you want me to see if I can fix it? Metalbending and all?” 

Asami shook her head. “Metalbending doesn’t rejoin load-bearing metal well. It’d be useless as a wrench.” 

Korra reached down, picked what was left of Wrenchie up. “But it’s more than just a wrench, isn’t it?” 

Asami certainly couldn’t disagree. 

“I’m sorry you lost something special to you,” Korra said. “And I’m sorry you feel silly admitting that it meant so much. It doesn’t matter if it was a wrench, or an old photograph, or a jacket… it doesn’t matter what something is. It matters what it  _ means _ . And that wrench has been with you for a long, long time.” 

Asami nodded, letting Korra guide her to the couch on the far wall. Korra sat Wrenchie in her lap as they sat. 

“You’re allowed to feel bad about this, okay? It’s not a silly thing at all.” 

“To be crying over a broken wrench?” 

“To be crying over all the years of memories attached to it. Asami, was it weird to me, when I felt like cutting off my wolf tails would disconnect me from my old life?” 

She frowned, shook her head. 

“That’s just hair. And that can grow back. You can get a new wrench, but it’ll never be the same, will it?” 

Asami swallowed. “So much in my life has… broken. Over the years. There’s never any mending it.” 

Korra pulled her in tight, kissing her hair gently. “I know what you mean. But Asami… you’re not the CEO of Past Industries, are you?” 

Asami snorted. “No.” 

“That’s right. Because we can’t change the past, can we? It’s not like screwwing down a bolt, or whatever you use a wrench for, that you can just unscrew it later if you want. Things change.” 

“Doesn’t that scare you?” 

“Not anymore,” Korra smiled. Then she turned, took both of Asami’s hands. “Look, before Hiroshi gave you that wrench, did it mean anything to you?” 

“I… didn’t know about it then? Also, I was four…” 

“Asami.” 

She smirked an apology. “No, it was just a wrench.” 

“Right, and you built up all the meaning over the years, just by living your life, right?” 

Asami nodded. 

“Well, Asami…” Korra picked the wrench out of her lap, and held it up near Asami’s face. She pitched her voice up high, speaking out of the side of her mouth: “ _ There’s room in your life for another Wrenchie, I’d say _ .”

Asami snickered. “Korra…”

“ _ You’re a great tool mom and we had lots of great adventures together. _ ” 

Asami laughed. 

“ _ It’s okay if you find a new wrench. I’ll always be with you. Maybe you can make me into a hood ornament? _ ” 

Asami cackled, shoving Korra’s hand enough out of the way to kiss her. 

Korra smiled, running her knuckles up Asami’s cheek. “Are you okay?” 

Asami settled her head against Korra’s, sighing, the tension in her shoulders melting away. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

“Good,” Korra said. Then she lifted Wrenchie back up. “ _ Did I mention I really like your girlfriend? _ ” That earned a good snort. “ _ You should make sure to keep her around, because she loves you a whole lot! _ ” 

“Wrenchie,” Asami said, holding Korra’s hand still and trying to keep her face still too. “You always have offered the best advice. Now, if you think you could give the two of us a little privacy?” 

Korra tilted her hand to make Wrenchie nod, then stuffed him under a pillow. “Alone at last, she said. 

Asami was happy. 

It was all Korra--or Wrenchie--had ever wanted. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic wound up being a lot longer and more intricate than I expected--there's a lot of depth to this relationship to explore. We'll see how many chapters this ends up! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave a kudos if you liked it enough to read to the end, and/or a comment if anything really made you smile. :D Also, [visit my Tumblr ](http://www.tumblr.com/blog/threehoursfromtroy/)if you like for nonstop Korrasami madness!


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